He played for them at every marriage feast and merry-making, and the good people rejoiced at his skill.
But his own people were very poor. His father was growing old and his mother’s busy fingers were not so active as they had been.
Lars told his dear violin that he wanted to do something to help them. He played the story on the old fiddle, one moonlight night until it dropped out of his hands and he fell fast asleep among the rocks, on the beach.
Then the mermaids came and whispered wonderful murmurs in his ear and sang of wealth and power beyond the ocean.
They touched his ears, kissed his hands and one tuned the cords of the old violin.
And Lars awoke a new being. He caught up his violin and hurried to the cottage to tell of his wonderful dream.
“And I’m going away,” said Lars, “far away to play for strange people, and perhaps I can earn some money for you, my father and mother.”
The day came that Lars was to start out into the great world. When he was ready his father and mother appeared with a pair of shoes for him. Lars was overjoyed.
He put on the shoes, and taking his old violin under his arm, bade his good parents farewell.
He had not walked very far, when he met an old woman, bent with age.